


Going, Going, Gone

by jaemintea



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: M/M, i swear i love nomin being happy more than anything but this sorta happened one night oops, idk where to draw the line for graphic content so i put the warning anyway just in case, sorry in advance, tw suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-09 02:28:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14707385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaemintea/pseuds/jaemintea
Summary: Jeno loved Jaemin more than anything. He would follow him everywhere, no matter what.





	Going, Going, Gone

Sunday was Jeno’s favorite day. It meant the beginning of the week and a day of relaxation, but it also meant the day when he could finally meet Jaemin and spend the entire day cuddling and being content, simply being in the other’s presence. Jeno cursed their conflicting schedules and weeks full of nonstop work, overtime, and constant stress, but that’s what made Sunday his favorite day.

It was Jaemin’s favorite day, too. He told Jeno it was the only thing he looked forward to. It worried Jeno, but he made sure he did everything in his ability to make the other happy.

Jeno could already feel the grin rising on his face as he knocked three times on Jaemin’s door. Jaemin told him that he could enter whenever he wanted to, but Jeno insisted for him to be the one to open the door. He said it felt more special for him when Jaemin’s cute face peeked out from behind the door to greet him. (Jaemin called him a romanticist for it.)

Usually, Jaemin answered the door within five seconds. He’d drop everything and sprint to the door. Jeno grew a bit nervous. Was Jaemin sick? Did he catch the flu at work and not tell him? He admitted it, he was a worrywart. Jaemin was the type of person to bottle up everything so no one would worry over him; he always wanted people to be happy. But that made Jeno worry over him even more.

“Nana?” Jeno raised his voice. “Are you there?”

He waited a few more seconds. Then a minute. Jeno furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“I’m coming in,” he said, turning the door handle, only to find out it wouldn’t budge.

His overactive mind attacked him now, horrible thoughts flooding his mind. Jaemin never locked the door—he always forgot to—and Jeno scolded him for it. He tried forcefully turning the handle, remembering the words Jaemin spat out about how shitty last week was, how they spent last Sunday in each other’s embrace, sobbing together.

Suddenly, Jeno felt a wave of pure terror course through his body. His mind just came up with another reason why Jaemin wasn't opening the door.

"Shit!" Jeno barked out, slamming his shoulder into the door.

Taking a few steps back, he took a running start and rushed his shoulder into the wooden door. A sharp pain pricked at his shoulder, but the adrenaline numbed it. He stepped back and hurled his right foot at the door. This time he heard a crack. Jeno took a stance and flung his foot into the door. The wooden door broke from its hinges and fell forwards with a loud noise. Thankfully, Jaemin lived in an old, ran down apartment, and Jeno took taekwondo lessons when he was little.

Jeno swiftly scanned the room; Jaemin rented a small complex, so it was quick search. There was a chair on its side next to the fallen door—Jeno presumed it was propped up under the door’s handle. It was mostly a plain room with the exception of some white curtains. But what caught his eye was the swivel chair behind the side of the bed.

A tuft of brown hair peeked out from the back of the chair. The sunlight that seeped through the silk curtains bounced off of the light brown shade. Jeno could recognize that head of hair from a mile away. He immediately let out the breath he had been holding in. Hastily, he strode across the room, stepping over the broken door.

"Jaemin, I was so—" He said, turning the chair around.

In the chair was Jaemin with a knife's handle sticking out of his chest. It was pushed in up to the hilt. Jeno recognized it was the knife he used when they cooked together.

Jaemin's tan skin looked lifeless; it lost its gleam. The normal, bubbly smile Jaemin would send Jeno's way was replaced with inexpressive lips, blotched with blood. His eyes looked out of focus, and his expression was blank, similar to a resting doll. The white shirt he was wearing was stained with a scarlet red.

Bile started rising up Jeno's throat. His vision turned hazy and his balance started to fail him. The scent of spilled blood finally reached his nose. Stumbling backwards, he hunched over and threw up. The pungent scent of vomit and stomach acid mixed in with the metallic smell of blood, creating an appalling aroma.

With a shaky hand, Jeno wiped the corner of his mouth and looked back.

Jaemin was still there.

Tears started forming at the corner of Jeno's eyes. His chest rose and fell at an uneven pace. Hot tears ran down his face. His hands trembled, knees buckling under the pressure.

"This can't be happening, this can't be happening—" Jeno hiccuped through a sob.

Lip quivering, he slowly stood back up. He wiped his eyes, only for his vision to be blurred again with more fresh tears. It felt like eternities passed as Jeno stared at his boyfriend’s corpse in disbelief.

On its own, his hand rose to Jaemin's cheek. He delicately wiped the dried blood away with his thumb. Mindlessly, Jeno muttered nonsense to himself and his depleting sanity—something about Jaemin always not cleaning up after himself.

Jeno brought his left hand up to Jaemin's temple. Brushing the soft brown hair back, Jeno placed a feathery kiss on the other's forehead. The coldness of the skin didn't faze him as his lips grazed it.

Like a puppet controlled by its puppeteer, Jeno lifelessly pulled back. He found his right hand resting on the knife handle.

Jeno wrapped his hand firmly around the handle and pulled back slowly, the sound of a blade slicing through flesh filled the air. He wiped the blade on the hem of his shirt, front and back.

Pausing for a few seconds, Jeno recognized that the sharp end of the knife pointing at himself. He looked back up at Jaemin, as if it was his last chance.

Jeno whimpered softly, sniffling. "I'm sorry you had to suffer like this..." Jeno moved a stray lock Jaemin's hair back into place.

"I'll find you on the other side, Nana." He whispered like he was trying to not rouse Jaemin from his sleep.

"I love you."

And so, he plunged the blade into his chest, identical to the male across him. There was no resistance, no sharp recoil or thrashing in pain. Jeno lost his footing at first, as if shocked that he would do this to himself. Then he slumped down to his knees, and finally, his body gave way.

The last thing Jeno saw were the soft rays of sunlight dancing on Jaemin's hair, reminding him of the mornings they had spent together waking up in each other's arms.

And he was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> i was gonna make this a chapter fic and branch all of this out,,, but then again it's me :) in my original plan, jaemin was going to be killed by a hitman at the end (so basically this was the ending), and the plot was gonna have the family dynamics and setting of sth like romeo and juliet, but i edited it so now it seems like it's suicide afahsjd i was debating whether to post this tbh but i wanted one of my 500 unfinished works to see the light of day ANYWAY sorry for this dump of tragedy n bad writing


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